Sibling Connections

It has now been five and a half weeks since we said both hello and good-bye to Molly.  At some moments I think, "I can't believe it has already been five weeks."  A minute later I'll think, "It's only been five weeks?"  Grief is so strange.  My days feel like a roller coaster ride.  People often tell me how strong I am, how they could never handle going through this, that I am handling this well.  First I tell them that if they hang around long enough, they are bound to see me fall apart.  It happens at least six times a day.  Then I say, yes, they could handle it if they had to.  I didn't choose this.  No one would.  But when life throws something at you, you can either crawl in a hole, or choose to survive.  I have Cole to take care of.  I have a wonderful husband to think about.  Crawling in a hole isn't an option.  So I choose survival.  I choose to get out of bed in the morning and live through another day.  To cry and laugh and miss Molly and hold Cole and kiss my husband and talk to my sister and constantly wonder why Molly isn't here and be grateful for all the blessings in my life.

A week or so after Molly died I was looking at memorial jewelry on Etsy.  I wasn't sure exactly what I was looking for, but I knew I wanted a necklace or a bracelet with Molly's name or initials.  I mentioned this to my sister Deanna, and she told me not to buy anything quite yet.  She had already purchased a necklace for me, and I ruined her surprise.  The necklace is very simple.  It has two small discs, one for each of my children with their initials, and two small birthstone gems.  In some small way, wearing it makes me feel a little better, a little closer to Molly.  Cole often touches it and looks at the letters saying, "C for me, and M for Molly!"  I'm glad that the necklace has become another physical reminder for Cole that he has a little sister.  I've become more comfortable talking to Cole about Molly.  We talk about her being in Heaven and how much we love her.  Occasionally Cole says some surprising things...

Last week I had a visit from my friend Kelly who lost her son Jonah a few hours after he was born.  Kelly and I were talking when she first arrived at my house, and Cole was being a bit shy when out of the blue he said, "Our baby went to Heaven."  Kelly responded, "I have a baby in Heaven, too.  Sometimes babies live, and sometimes they go to Heaven.  My baby's name is Jonah."  Cole started giggling and said, "Oh, JoJo."  Kelly looked at me astounded and asked if I knew anyone named JoJo.  I told her that we didn't.  She then told me that her family refers to Jonah as JoJo.  The logical side of me says Cole heard the name Jonah and just turned it into JoJo because that's what almost-three-year-olds do.  The non-logical, desperate for a connection with my daughter part thought Molly is talking to Cole!  She knows Jonah and is telling Cole they play together!  And since I can't really know why he said that, I choose to believe that in some way, Molly was whispering in Cole's ear and telling him about her new friend.

A few days later Cole and I were playing and one of us brought up Molly.  I don't remember the exact conversation, but I know I asked Cole if he loved her, to which he answered yes.  He then told me that Molly tells him stories and sings to him.  I asked him what her stories are about.  He said animals.  Again, could be nothing.  Could be his imagination.  But I don't care.  If he says his baby sister sings to him from Heaven, who am I to say she doesn't?

The last significant "Molly Moment" he and I shared was in the car.  Cole and I were driving to the UW campus to pick Brendon up from work.  On the way there, we passed a construction site.  Cole saw a crane and said, "Look at that white crane, Mama!  It's outside Molly's window!"  My eyes immediately filled with tears.  I have never referred to that side of the car as "Molly's side."  Cole made the connection all on his own that that's where she would sit.  And again, I think, Maybe she is sitting there.  Maybe she's keeping her big brother company.  Maybe he can somehow feel her presence.  Maybe he can see her.

Somehow my son has a connection to my daughter that I cannot describe or explain.  Somehow his mind, which is not bogged down by grown-up logic, has let her in.  I am choosing to believe that these incidents are not random.  I am choosing to believe that these two little people, separated by the bounds of life and death, somehow cross that barrier and spend time together.  Whether it's true or not doesn't matter.  It makes me happy to think they have a connection, that they somehow still have each other.  When I can look past my own grief, I get incredibly sad for the sibling experiences Cole and Molly will not have together.  If in some small way they are having some sibling connection now, then it is definitely something I am grateful for.  And I just hope I get to hear about it.

"Love means you breathe in two countries."
~Naomi Shihab Nye